Take Me Away
by edmundblack
Summary: /The part that had loved and lost and hurt and loved again/Newt's being taken away by the cranks - his kind, him - and he knows it's coming - the Flare, it's eating him, it's killing him and please Tommy just take him away.


The boy didn't bother to struggle against the cranks; they were right, they were right, they'd found him crying and he could not, _would not, _deny it. Rocking, back and forth, because if he hurt Tommy – _oh, _if he hurt Tommy he could never bear it. Not after Alby and all those other boys he watched die. Ben. Jason. Theo. The screams were still fresh and now that he was going mad, every night he heard them. Not that Newt slept much – how could he, how could he, when Tommy and Minho were possibly fighting for their lives. And the blonde had been stuck, stuck in that stupid Berg, alone. Foolish, worthless, unneeded.

And their hands wrapped around his biceps, squeezing them, and they seemed to be bumping him into anything possible. _But Tommy could be hurt too. _Newt didn't want to imagine it, not Thomas beaten and bruised and…Oh, shuck, how had he let this happen? Stupid Flare, stupid Newt, stupid everything.

"_I can't." And he ran, and Minho screamed after him, but they'd just banished a boy, a boy of twelve and Newt couldn't believe he'd let it come to that, he'd just sentenced a little boy to _death. _And he stumbled through the Maze, trying to figure out where the boy had gone, before he stepped on something. And the something was a bone of the dead boy. _

He took a gasp of air, and prayed that Minho was okay. He wasn't sure what he prayed to, but whatever there was, it should've looked after Minho. And Thomas; of course Thomas. Thomas was like a second pair of lungs, a second heart.

"_Help me!" The boy thrashed in his sleep, his painful sleep as the Griever's poison pulsed through him. "Teresa!" Her name was like a knife to Newt's heart; but what had he expected? In the Glade, there had always only been boys, and a bunch of horny teenage boys stuck together was bound to produce relationships. But Thomas knew a girl, and Newt vaguely remembered that two boys were sometimes frowned upon. _

"_It's me, Newt," He whispered, kissing Thomas' fragile fingers. The boy thrashed and shook his head, with no sign of recognition. _It doesn't matter, _he tried to convince himself, _you don't care. _But he did, oh, he did. _

A strange noise rose in his throat, and one of the cranks heard, and turned to look at him, with a cruel, evil smile – could it even be called a smile? The boy didn't know, he couldn't _think _with the insanity ringing in his ears. He was a crank, too, he shouldn't be calling them cranks, but he didn't know their names and he was _stupid, _he should've asked, but the fear rate was as high as the craziness.

"You alright there, little boy?" Newt didn't answer, because it wasn't true, the crank – the _guy _– didn't really care, not with a mocking, high-pitched voice. But he sort of wished the guy did care, because just because, because of Thomas and _Tommy _and Minho and now he even sort of cared about Brenda – meaning he wouldn't want her to be eaten alive. Would anyone? Yes, yes actually, people might, people would, cranks would – would he? He was a crank, yes, yes actually, he might, but he didn't want to. The still-human part, the Newt part, the part that kissed Tommy's fingers and the part that had loved and lost and hurt and loved again, that part didn't want to eat Brenda or Tommy or Minho or _anyone. _Is bod began to shake with sobs because no, _no, _please don't eat anyone please please please. And there were tears and the cranks – the guys, his kind, whatever he – he? – wanted to call them looked at him funny with tilted heads and he just didn't want to eat anyone.

And finally they got to the place, wherever it was and Newt wondered if Tommy could visit, if he _would _visit and he'd have read the note and he would end it because he didn't want to go crazy and just be hate, just run on insanity and hate because that wasn't him, Newt was the one who cried when they vanished people – no, _banished, _not vanished, and now the craziness was taking his memory and he couldn't concentrate on _anything. _

_Please, Tommy, Please. _


End file.
